


Constellations

by LemonCakeDesign



Series: Almost (Sweet Music) [15]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25504459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonCakeDesign/pseuds/LemonCakeDesign
Summary: Cause like constellations a million years awayEvery good intention, every good intentionIs interpolation, a line we drew in the arrayLooking for the facesLooking for the shapes in the silencePike has lost a lot, before coming to the First. His relationship with Thancred, his friends, and a pretty significant fight. But hey. New world, new him, right?Right?
Relationships: One-Sided G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light - Relationship, Warrior of Light/Thancred Waters
Series: Almost (Sweet Music) [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535039
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

The first time G’raha sees Pike in hundreds of years, Pike punches him directly across the face.

Technically, it’s not until they’re alone. But outside of the Ocular, in front of his people, something in him ceases to be G’raha Tia, and becomes wholly the Exarch. If he were a younger man, he’d think that warrant talking about with someone; that kind of cognitive dissonance couldn’t be healthy.

But G’raha is centuries old now, and such things should be left to those who will live to see the darkened skies of Norvrant, anyhow. 

G’raha collects every one of Pike’s differences on their way through the streets, notes the way the smiles reach his eyes now when he thanks someone, notes the contemplative quiet that overcomes him when he’s alone, notes the way his eyes tighten with anger when they glance over G’raha.

It shouldn’t surprise G’raha that Pike takes the first opportunity to strike him, then, when he’s noticed that—but it does, so much so that he overbalances and falls to the ground. He’d wager that, if not for the careful application of spells, his hood would have fallen off and revealed his identity.

Pike rolls his shoulders, the anger sliding off his features like a snake shedding its skin. “Been waiting to do  _ that _ one for a while, now,” he says, grinning. It doesn’t feel pleasant. 

G’raha touches his cheek gently, hissing at the pain of a burgeoning bruise. “You hit me,” he says, stunned.

Pike shakes his head. “You took  _ everything  _ from me. Unintentional or not. My closest friends, my lo—” he cuts off, letting out a heavy breath. “So yes, I hit you. Be glad it was just the one.”

G’raha still feels stunned. He’s known, since he woke in the tower to a sea of unfamiliar faces, since he was told Pike perished at the end of the world, that he would be different. Reading Heavensward, hearing stories from people who knew him—all of it prepared him for Pike to be a different man to the one he knew. Or so he thought. But staring up at the man he’s spent centuries chasing and loving—it feels like a beautiful stained glass window shattering and revealing a barren landscape beyond.

G’raha takes a settling breath, collects himself, and moves on. He’ll deal with the fallout of his shattered image later, when he’s alone—when he can just be G’raha Tia, without having to be the Crystal Exarch as well.

* * *

Pike tears his armor off, the second he’s in his room, sick of the crushing feeling wrapping itself around his chest.

He throws it in a pile on the floor, because Valliant isn’t here to tell him not to. Then he sits on the bed, grabs a pillow, and screams into it. He only barely keeps himself from shredding it into pieces after he’s done, instead throwing it back on the bed. 

He stands, restless, and crosses to the window. Staring out at the endless light is depressing, but there’s a breeze, and the scent of forge smoke is familiar enough to settle Pike. It reminds of him of Mor Dhona, of sitting at Rowena’s cafe with Valliant, of cool night air settling over his bare skin when in bed with Thancred, of shopping in the markets with the twins.

Twelve, he misses them all, so much it feels like he may just die if he doesn’t get to them soon.

“You…?” 

The voice from behind him makes Pike jump, and he whirls around. A black miasma, in the shape of a person, stands there. The miasma fades, and standing there is a man...a  _ familiar _ man. Who glows. Pike feels the headache start.

“I know you...You’re the Warrior of Light from the Source!” The Warrior of Darkness says.

“ _ One  _ of the Warriors of Light,” Pike says irritably. “Does everyone seem determined to forget Valliant exists? You  _ literally _ fought her, Mister Warrior of Darkness.”

“What? Did you just...you can hear me!?” The Warrior of Darkness looks shocked. “Oh gods, how long has it been…?”

“Oh, you’re a ghost,” Pike says. “Okay. Explains the glowing.” He sits on the ground and puts his head between his legs. “This is the weirdest goddamn day of my life. The Warrior of Darkness is a ghost and only I can hear him.”

“My real name is Ardbert,” the ghost says unhelpfully. 

“Mine is Pike. Nice to meet you.” Pike picks his head up. “Wait, if I’m the first person you’ve spoken to...where are your friends?”

“They...they gave their lives to stop the Flood, with Minfilia,” he says, looking downcast. “Leaving me behind to bear witness. Tell me, do you know the year? How much time has passed since we caused the Flood?”

“A hundred years, I think,” Pike says. 

“A hundred years...a hundred long years…” Ardbert shakes his head. He crosses to the table, swiping at a cup. His hand passes through it, because he’s a  _ ghost _ , there’s a ghost in Pike’s  _ bedroom _ , and he’s so tired he can’t even have a crisis about it.

Ardbert’s talking. Right. Maybe Pike should listen to the ghost. “I feel as if I've been walking forever... I hardly noticed when my mind and body began to fray at the edges. Then “bang,” my senses were sharp again. I felt like a fish being reeled in, and before I knew it, I found myself in this room. Why is it that you can see me? What are you even doing here, come to that?”

“I was summoned,” Pike says. “To...save the First from the eternal light. Apparently it’s going to cause a Calamity anyway. Don’t know why I can see you, but it’s probably some Hydaelyn bullshit. It’s always some Hydaelyn bullshit.”

Ardbert scoffs. “You were summoned to save the First? A waste of time. This world is beyond saving─like those who try to save it. Muddled as my mind may be, I've not forgotten that.”

“ _ Nothing _ is beyond saving,” Pike says. He stands. “I know you’re all depressed because you caused all these problems and you’re a ghost, but I’ve got a duty to try to save these people, if I can. I’m not going to give up at the jump just because you failed.”

“Good luck, but don’t come crying to me if you fail.” Ardbert rolls his eyes, but he looks conflicted. “Well. I'll be watching, Warrior of Light. But do me a favor. Be careful out there. This world has had its fill of heroes.”

He fades. Pike sighs.

“Look at me, talking to ghosts,” he mutters. “I  _ really _ need to find my friends.”

* * *

When he has them back in his sights, Pike tucks the twins to his sides like ducklings and ignores their protestations. For all their blustering, neither is trying that hard to actually separate themselves, and he knows Alisiae is too proud to ask for comfort even after the trauma she’s endured. He smooths a hand over her hair as he turns his attention to the Exarch.

“Alright,” he says. “Where’s Valliant?”

“Tracking Lakeland’s Light Warden,” the Exarch replies, then launches into a description of the mentioned monsters.

It’s relatively straightforward, and Pike thanks the Twelve for it. He’s had enough of warfare and politics for the moment, and he’s ready to have the whole problem boil down to stabbing a big monster in the face. 

As luck would have it (though Pike doesn’t think a whole town being attacked is very lucky), the Light Warden finds them. Holminster Switch is fairly close, too, so they can go right away. Pike punches his palm and gives a grin to the Exarch. “Let’s go save some lives and punch some giant monsters,” he says.

“One thing, before we depart,” the Exarch says. “Valliant’s last reported location was Holminster. I would like to prepare you if...she…”

“We’d better get a move on, then,” Pike interrupts. “Valliant’s stronger than me, she’s probably halfway to the Light Warden already.”

For all his confidence in her, though, Pike still finds his mind straying to worry. Valliant  _ is _ strong, stronger than anyone Pike knows, but he knows it only takes one mistake before you’re flat on the ground with a monster on top of you.

He defeats the Sin Eater that turned Tesleen, and then Tesleen herself with only half his mind present. He takes some blows for it, which has Alphinaud casting Physick on him with dark mutterings, but otherwise they continue on just fine to the town square. And there’s a sea of Sin Eater eggs, and for a brief, horrible moment, Pike wonders if Valliant is in one of them. 

He doesn’t register the egg splitting until it’s too late, and the claw slams into his chest, slamming him to the ground. It presses into him, baring teeth dripping with white drool, and Pike can’t move, can barely breathe as it rests all its weight on his still-healing scar, like it can smell his weakness. Pike wishes he could see Valliant one last time, that the next time she sees him won’t be his mangled corpse, that he could see Thancred one last time—

The Sin Eater goes flying as a figure in shining armor crashes into it, shield first.

“I swear, kid, you’re determined to bring the Miqo’te average life expectancy down all on your own,” Valliant says, putting her sword directly through the thing’s head. “And mine, too.”   


Pike’s still struggling to breath, but even so, he can’t keep the grin off his face at hearing her voice once more. “Well, hey, someone’s gotta be the punching bag when you’re off playing hero.”

“Good to know I was missed.”

“Yeah.” Pike grins, feeling something settle in his chest. “Yeah, you were.”

* * *

“Are you purring?” Valliant asks, amused.

“You’re brushing my hair,” Pike says, interrupting said purring to pout. “It’s inherently calming.”

“You’ve never purred before, is all.”

“I have,” Pike admits, and Valliant can see the edges of his cheeks tinge red. “I just was quiet about it. Because it’s embarrassing.”

Valliant snorts. “You embarrass yourself daily. Purring is the least of your concerns.”

Pike pouts harder, but the purring starts up again after a minute. Valliant smiles to herself, and begins to twist strands of hair together into Pike’s customary braids. It’s only now, as the familiar feeling of soft blue hair in her hands reminds her, how long she’s been without Pike.

“How long has it been for you? Being here, I mean,” Pike says, giving unwitting voice to her thoughts.

“A year,” Valliant says softly. “A long year. You?”   


“Less than a month,” Pike replies. “Feels kind of like a year, in some ways, though.” She’s not sure if he realizes he’s touching his chest. There’s a hint of a scar, still pink with healing, that she can see through the neck of his loose shirt. It looks ugly, like a reminder that she wasn’t there to protect him.

“Mm.” Valliant finishes the braid she’s working on and ties it off. “Everyone doing well?”

Pike starts listing off what their other friends are up to, and she has to laughingly tug him still again as he begins to gesture broadly, caught up in the story telling. He even hints at Gaius, and  _ Estinien _ , which considering she hasn’t seen him since the Nidhogg incident, is kind of amazing. She notes how he carefully avoids details of how Estinien met, touching his chest again. But she knows when to push and when to let Pike tell her, by now, so she keeps quiet.

“What about you?” Pike asks, after he’s finished talking about Cid and Nero’s ongoing UST dance. “What did you do for a year?”

“I stayed close, at first,” Valliant says, and motions for him to turn so she can start on his front braids. “Kept expecting you to come over soon enough, and I wanted to be here so you wouldn’t be alone. But…” she shrugs. “It took a while, and I started getting antsy. Decided to go track down the Light Warden for you, try and make things a little easier. You saw how that worked out.”

“Yeah.” Pike starts to nod, then frowns as his hair is pulled. “Did you...did you see Thancred at all?”

It would be cute, how casual he’s trying to be about it, if it weren’t for the way his heart already looks broken about it. “Once. Met the little Minfilia, too. She’s sweet, but shy as anything. Thancred’s brusque with her, but she looked well-fed and well-clothed.”

“I’m glad he’s looking out for her,” Pike says with a small smile. “He didn’t…”

She knows what he’s asking. “He asked if you were alright, but not anything else. Time was short, so.” Valliant shrugs again, and finishes off the last braid. She pats Pike’s cheeks twice, laughing at his put upon expression, and stands, stretching her legs out.

Pike doesn’t follow up with the Thancred questions, instead moving on to talk about something else from the Source. The heartbroken look doesn’t leave his face until they part.


	2. Chapter 2

Thancred is slow.

He doesn’t intend to be, but he is. The Exarch waylays him on his way to help with the rescue effort for Minfilia, letting him in on a last minute plan to get them all out of there. It’s a good plan and he’s glad to have it, glad that they can be out of danger for Eulmore for at least a few moments—

But he is slow.

He watches from the corner of his eye as Pike keeps up, though he’s pale and slower than usual. There’s a fresh bruise blooming across his eye, the ends of his hair are scorched, and his lip is split with a thin trickle of blood running from it.

He is, as always, absolutely stunning.

Pike’s eyes shift to him, some preternatural sense telling him he’s being stared at, no doubt. A brief flash of hurt crosses his face, before being wiped blank with a pleasant smile. Thancred had seen the blank look before, though never with the context. It ignites that long dead flare of regret he’d carried these past five years.

He tears his eyes away from Pike as they slow down, and he throws himself into dealing Il Mheg and the mischievous fairies to ignore everything else going on around him. Especially how cute Pike’s pout is as he gets scolded by Feo Ul.

* * *

Thancred won’t look at him.

It hurts more than the freshly injured chest wound that’s been knitted back together with Alphinaud’s magic. His heart aches every time he glances at Thancred, and it’s barely soothed by getting to see Urianger for the first time, and Feo Ul, again.

Feo Ul  _ is _ pretty great, though, despite the world class scolding. He deserved it, though, and there's something too cute about having the pixie yelling at him in their strong accent for Pike to be too sore over it for too long. They settle into his hair as Pike sets off to catch a Hawker. “You’re hurting, sapling,” they say.

“Am I?” Pike scours the surroundings for the vilekin. “I did just get out of battle, and I’m not 100% yet.”

“Yes,” Feo Ul says, patting him lightly on the head. “But you know that’s not what I mean.”

Pike glances back, to where Urianger and Thancred are. “Am I that obvious? I thought I was hiding it pretty well.”

“Us Fae are masters of deception and misdirection,” Feo Ul says proudly, and though Pike can’t see their face, he can imagine their smug smile. “And I’m the best of them all. I doubt he realizes, though. You mortals can be so blind to the world around you.”

“Hm, maybe so.” Pike chances another glance towards Thancred, who has spontaneously been adorned with flowers in his hair. He smiles fondly.

“...We  _ are _ talking about the shorter one, right?”

“Yes, of course.” Pike laughs. “Urianger is a good friend, but...never. Not like that.”

“Thank goodness,” they say, laughing as well. Feo Ul is quiet for a moment, and Pike thinks they’re looking at Thancred. “He looks hurt, too.”

“I imagine so.” Pike sighs lightly. “I...hurt him. Badly. I used to love another man, and he...died, saving my life. It made me scared to love anyone else like that. And I pushed him away.”

“That  _ is _ quite bad,” Feo Ul declares. “I may not know much about mortal love, but I know hurting those who care about you isn’t any good at all.” They pull meaningfully on his hair.

“I did apologize for not calling you, already,” Pike says with a laugh. “You’ll have to let it go eventually.”

They sigh over dramatically. “I suppose so.” Feo Ul tugs on his hair again, pulling Pike’s eyes towards the east. “Look, over there! There’s the hawker.”

“Thank you.” Pike bashes it over the head with his shield, careful not to damage it too greatly, then shoves it into the box Urianger gave him. “Well, that’s done, then. You think the others will like it?”

“I should hope so, it’s a gift from my beautiful sapling,” Feo Ul says haughtily, and Pike laughs.

“Thanks, Feo Ul. You’re the best branch this sapling could ask for. I’ll remember to call you next time, okay?”

“You’d better!”

* * *

Pike feels about as happy as a drowned cat, and judging by the way his comrades dart out of his way as he stomps up the stairs in Urianger’s house, he probably looks it too. The only thing keeping him from going back and slaughtering the Fuath is the promise of the warm bath Urianger’s already drawn for him and the fact that they did, in fact, get what they came for with the little froggy bastards.

He sinks into the warm water with a bone weary sigh and wishes the water breathing came with water  _ warming _ , too. And freedom from pond scum. He remembers Lyse saying that algae is good for the hair, but somehow Pike doesn’t think this is the normal application.

After scrubbing his hair until the water is green with grime and finally,  _ finally _ getting the warmth to sink back into his bones, Pike pulls himself from the water and wraps a nice, fluffy towel around himself. “Thank the twelve for Urianger’s indulgences,” he mutters to himself as he pulls his hair into a braid. 

There’s a knock at the door, and Pike, expecting Valliant or Urianger, calls out, “It’s unlocked.”

It doesn’t take him too long to register that it’s Thancred, still too familiar with the specific sound of his walking patterns. Pike holds back a weary sigh and turns to face him. “I hope you brought me warm clothes, or else have a  _ very  _ good excuse for interrupting—is something wrong?”

Thancred’s face is white as chalk, looking at Pike’s bare chest. “The...scar. When did that…”

Pike touches his chest unthinkingly, and fights back a grimace at the lance of pain at that. “When the Exarch contacted me. I was fighting Elidibus-Zenos? Whoever. It’s a little hard, I’ve learned, to hold your own against an Ascian when your soul is being pulled into the rift for a friendly chat.”

“So when you fought Ran’jit…”

Pike sighs. “Yes, he seemed to notice that I was weaker there. Took me a  _ week _ to recover from that in the first place…” he trails off as Thancred sets the bundle of clothes down and steps closer. 

He traces a finger from the start of Pike’s scar to where his hand currently rests, and Pike sucks in a sharp breath. Whether the breath is prompted by pain or the overwhelmingly familiar feeling-scent-sound of Thancred being close, Pike doesn’t know. He looks up at Thancred.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there, to help you,” Thancred says softly.

It’s too much, too soft to be directed at him, after all the clear discomfort he’s been radiating since they reunited, and it snaps Pike out of the haze. He shakes his head, stepping away from Thancred. “It’s fine. I got lucky, just like always, and Estinien was nearby.” He grins, and hopes it fools Thancred enough even though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you. For the clothes, I mean.”

“I-yes, of course.” Thancred’s hand, which was still held in the air from where it had been resting on Pike’s scar, finally falls. “I expect they’re outside of your usual style, but I hope you’ll find them serviceable regardless. I’ll...go let the others know you’re alright.”

“I appreciate that.” Pike carefully doesn’t watch as Thancred leaves the room, and grabs the clothes.

They smell like Thancred, and that hurts worse than the scar ever did.

* * *

Solus— _ Emet-Selch  _ won’t stop staring at him. And it drives Pike crazy. As they enter Raktika, he feels that itching feeling of eyes on him, leaving him little able to pay attention to their surroundings. He can't scan for Eulmoran forces _and_ be irritated at an Emperor that he'd sooner punch than get along with, so he decides to do something about it.

Casually, he slows down, dropping into step with the Ascian, who had started to trail behind the group. “What’s with the staring?”

If Emet-Selch is surprised, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he merely gives Pike an unamused glance. “I’m quite sure I don’t understand your meaning.”

Pike smiles without humor. “Sure, sure. You’ve only had your eyes glued to me since you revealed yourself. I mean, I’m aware I have the finest ass in  _ any _ dimension, but somehow I doubt I’m your type. The age difference  _ alone _ —”

Emet-Selch sighs heavily, cutting him off. “If I admit to staring, will you cease your mindless babble?”

“Probably not, but I’ll direct it at someone else if you tell me why, too.”

A considering look, and the Ascian nods. “I suppose that’s acceptable. You simply seem...familiar.”

“Is that all?” Pike says. At Emet-Selch’s nod, he laughs. “We’ve met before, you realize. Eight years ago, when the newest Frumentarii were presented for your inspection. I suppose I didn’t make much of an impression, then.”

“I inspected many troops in my time as Emperor,” Emet-Selch admits. “It tended to blend together.”

“I don’t doubt it. It seems dictatorship  _ does _ have its drawbacks.” Pike grins, showing his teeth. In some ways, it burns at him that he’s not  _ memorable _ , that to the “Great Emperor Solus” he wasn’t more notable than a simple ant would be. 

In other ways, he’s glad. Somehow, he thinks drawing the Emperor’s attention would have been much, much worse.

Emet-Selch doesn’t respond to Pike’s obvious barb, instead giving him a bored glance. “Are you satisfied with your answers, then? I doubt your little friends will be best pleased if you continue to... _ fraternize _ with the enemy.”

It’s just as obvious a dig as Pike’s earlier comment, and he lets it wash over him. “Don’t go worrying yourself over little ol’ me, Emet. I can take care of myself. Just ask Lahabrea.” Pike gives his best chilling grin, and casually saunters off towards Minfilia, not bothering to see Emet-Selch’s reaction.

* * *

Minfilia doesn’t know how to interact with Pike.

He’s kind, and funny when he wants to be, but she spends most of their time in Il Mheg shying away from him. She’s seen him in battle and he’s  _ terrifying _ , single minded and ferocious. It creates an odd sort of cognitive dissonance in her mind that she can’t shake.

Until she sees the way he interacts with Seto, and the heartbroken look on his face. And the way Alisiae and Thancred—Thancred, who’s gruff demeanor any time Pike was so much as mentioned had made her think he  _ hated _ Pike—had continually thrown themselves into the lake to find him, even though they had known he was unable to drown. 

And the way he’d patted her on the head after coming out of the castle, with a grin, like he knew she’d been worrying about him and appreciated it.

It’s hard not to grow fond of him after that.

But she still doesn’t know how to interact with him. She doesn’t know how to interact with  _ anyone _ , even Thancred (especially Thancred), always feeling like she’s making a misstep in conversation or implying something she doesn’t want to. 

Minfilia frets over this as she tries not to stare at Pike. He’s sitting by the fire in Slitherbough, holding a journal and a quill and frowning. She wants so badly to go and sit beside him, ask what he’s doing, but she’s not sure if she’d just be bothering him, or if she’d even be able to understand—

Pike looks up at her and gives her a broad grin. “Hey, Mini. Come sit with me a moment. I need to bounce ideas off someone.”

She blinks. Then she nods, and settles awkwardly at her side. “What are you writing?”

“A song,” he says, showing her the journal.

A few scribbled words are written there, and she squints at his handwriting. It’s not bad, not by a malm, but it’s fancy enough that she has to actually focus on the letters. It reminds her of a book she’d had, while still living in Eulmore, a written account of the founding of the city. Pike’s letters have the same tails, the curving of one into the other that makes it harder for her to discern.

“The Sapling and the Branch?” she asks, tilting her head.

Pike nods. “There’s something about Il Mheg that inspired me, and I figured I couldn’t write about Il Mheg without writing about Feo Ul. It all sort of spiralled from there.”

“And you want my help?” Minfilia frowns. “I’m not a terribly skilled writer, you know.”

“To be honest, anyone would have done,” Pike says, settling the journal back in his lap. “You were nearby, though, and the rest of them are probably tired of my waffling over my art. You haven’t had the chance to get tired of me yet.”

“I think you’d be hard to get tired of,” Minfilia says, then bites her lip as Pike looks at her. There’s that familiar sinking feeling, a knowledge that she’s said the wrong thing once again.

But Pike just laughs. “Everyone says that at first. My husband thought my concentrating face was cute right up until I let out a feral scream and threw an entire sheath of my music paper into the fire. And then tried to pull it out with my bare hands.”

Minfilia stares at him. Finally, she says, “You have a husband?”

“That’s what you got from that?” Pike shakes his head with a laugh. “Had, past tense. He died just over a year and a half ago.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry—”

Pike cuts her off with a wave of his hand. “It’s fine. You didn’t know. And I’m well past the point of sobbing hysterics over his death.” He tilts his head back, looking up towards the sky. “Everyone else seems to avoid the subject of him with me, so I don’t really get to fondly reminisce on him very often.”

Minfilia bites her lip, agonizing over her next words. Finally, she decides. “Will you tell me about him?”

Pike smiles. “I’d love to.” He sets his journal down and straightens up. “It all starts with a young man, new to the continent, and a search for a broken airship…”

Later, Thancred finds the two of them asleep next to the fire, Minfilia tucked protectively into Pike’s side. And if he smiles fondly and covers them with a blanket, well. That’s his business.


	3. Chapter 3

Hades is taking a truly wonderful nap in a cozy tree in Rak’tika when he’s disturbed by someone climbing next to him. He opens an eye, though barely needs to confirm who it could be—the Warrior of Light, shard of Orpheus, would be the only one stupid enough to climb up this high to bother an immortal, powerful enemy.

He sighs. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Warrior of Light?”

The shard of Orpheus gives him a piercing stare. “So why’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Save Y’shtola.” The shard tilts his head, as if it should be obvious.

“Is that her name?” Hades asks, looking at him out of the corner of his eye. “I see. She’s useful.” It has nothing to do with the broken look on the shard’s face when he’d returned without his friend. Nothing at all.

“That’s it?”

“Yes.” Hades closes his eyes and relaxes again. “Did you expect altruism, Warrior of Light? I’m sorry to disappoint, but you should keep your expectations low.”

“No,” the shard says. “Not at all. I was trying to figure out if you had evil reasons. Like...planting an Ascian among us again, or something.”

“If I had, would I have told you?”

The shard laughs. It makes Hades heart clench painfully, too much and too little like Orpheus at the same time. This shard is the closest to Orpheus that he’s met, and it only makes their differences more glaring.

“I guess you wouldn’t have,” Orpheus’ shard says. “Besides, that’d be boring. Lahabrea played that one out already, and you seem to have a shred more creativity than that.”

“Hm.”

Hades tries to go back to sleep, but he’s so aware of the shard’s presence, he can’t get his mind to quiet. He sighs irritably again and sits up, turning to look fully at Orpheus’ shard. “If you’re going to infringe on my presence, indulge my curiosity for a moment.”

The shard tilts his head, ears flicking with amusement. “You’re curious about me? I don’t if I should feel horrified or honored.”

“I simply wish to know how a Frumentarii becomes the Warrior of Light.”

“Right place, right time,” the shard quips back. When Hades merely raises an eyebrow, he lets out a woosh of breath and sits up. “Fine, fine. As you’re quite aware, the Frumentarii do as many assassinations as they do spying. I’d already been feeling the weight of that, and I killed a young man, the same age as me. And it...it was the straw that broke the chocobo’s back, I suppose. Five months later, I killed the Spymaster and fled. After that, it really was just right place, right time.”

“A truly thrilling tale,” Hades says drily. “I thought you were supposed to be a bard.”

“Forgive me if I find it hard to write my trauma into a pretty story,” the shard returns. “That would take three months, at least. And a bit of tears, which I think we would both rather avoid.”

“I suppose.”

“Can I ask a question?”

Hades sighs. “You’d just ask if I said no, anyway, so I suppose.”

The shard smirks. “I would. Are you happy, Emet-Selch?”

Hades feels his blood chill. For a moment, he’s in the Convocation hall, staring at Orpheus, who’s pale and shaking with anger.

“Are you happy, Hades?”

Hades blinks, and gives Orpheus’ shard a smirk. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He teleports away to hide the way his hands shake.

* * *

Pike, as a rule, doesn’t like to be alone. He’s comfortable like that, sure—he’s spent most of his adult life perched in the boughs of trees or on the roofs of buildings, waiting for a target to come into his sights. The control of that moment comforts him, in a way the chaos of social interaction can’t. Right up until it tips into reminding him of all the people he’s killed, and the guilt crushes him like a boulder.

Lately, he’s tried not to be alone for too long. Something about telling people, or maybe seeing one of his former handlers, makes the guilt creep up too fast. Valliant’s good at distracting him from it. Thancred used to be, too.

And, yet, he finds himself straying from the group after killing Rak’tika’s Lightwarden. He feels it, the change Y’shtola had seen in him. The broiling, angry aether coats his lungs, making every breath feel hot and searing. He thinks he’s felt it since he killed the one in Holminster Switch—he remembers a taste of chalk that came and went in waves, a feeling of anxiety, throwing up in his bathroom and thinking it didn’t look much like the soup he’d just eaten. The anxiety’s only grown, now, and he can’t tell if it’s the Light or the worry that he’s driving himself into his grave.

Before, that wouldn’t have mattered. Before, Pike would have welcomed such a heroic death. Preventing a whole Calamity? That made up for everything he’d done. And some part of him still feels that, still sings that he doesn’t  _ deserve _ to live, anyway, so why does it matter?

Because he has people to live for. Valliant. Thancred. The twins. All his friends. And Minfilia, now, too.

These thoughts plague him, and he heads to his Pendants room with a bare excuse that somehow gets accepted when they return to the Crystarium. He ascends the stairs in a sort of daze, barely registering that he’s made it to his room until he finds himself laying back on his bed, armor shucked and sword resting by his feet.

“Long day?”

Pike shrieks and tips off his bed, scrambling for his sword. By the time he stands, hair sticking straight up, brandishing his weapon, he registers the laughing, and the voice.

“Thank you, Ardbert,” Pike grumbles, shoving his sword back in its sheath. “I needed to be scared. Really. Cured my hiccups.”

“Happy to help,” Ardbert says, sitting on the bed as Pike collapses back onto it. “Seriously, though, you seem tense.”

“The Lightwardens are suffusing me with their aether,” Pike says. He spreads his arms out and stares up at the ceiling again. “It hurts. And I think it’s only going to get worse from here.”

Ardbert shifts uncomfortably. “I’m sorry to place this burden on you. If I had only been able to stop the Ascians—”

“Not your fault,” Pike interrupts. “I’m choosing to do this, okay? And you were just trying to help your world.”

“Hm,” Ardbert replies, clearly not believing. And Pike knows he’d do the exact same thing, so he lets it go. These things take time, and all that. “Are you...alright?”

Pike shrugs. “I’ve had worse. Feels like a really bad sore throat, ‘s all.” The world’s  _ worst _ sore throat, maybe, but he doesn’t need another Ardbert mope sesh. “I’ll live. The Exarch has a plan, I think.”

Ardbert sighs. “Have you told anyone?”

“Y’shtola and Urianger know. I don’t know who else they’ve told.” There’s that chalk taste again—along with a sense of impending doom. “Valliant would try to make me stop, I think, and I...can’t. The twins and Minfilia are too young to worry about me, so I hope they haven’t been told. And Thancred…” Pike lets out a deep breath, grimacing at the burning sensation. “I don’t know.”

“I see.” Ardbert pats him on the shoulder. There’s an odd feeling, the same re-centering of the world that occurs every time they make contact, until Ardbert removes his hand. “Well, at least you have me to talk to about it. Can’t say I’m very comforting, but I’m here.”

“Thanks, Ardbert.” Pike smiles at him, and it feels genuine.

* * *

Thancred doesn’t know how a simple injury turns into an overnight stay in the Spagyrics, but he suspects it has something to do with the way Pike whispers to Chessamile right before he leaves to gather some herbs. It’s a little ironic that  _ Pike _ is the one who has him stuck here, but the humor of the situation is outweighed by his irritation at being treated like a child. He’s perfectly  _ fine _ , thank you very much.

The Spagyrics’ beds are quite comfortable, though, so Thancred doesn’t grumble too much. Minfilia visits him for a bit, still carrying that beaten down look, and he so badly wants to pat her on the head and tell her everything’s going to be okay, but something holds him back. Instead, he smiles fondly as she reads to him from a book of poetry, and falls asleep to the sound of her voice.

He wakes as the sun sends beams through the window near his bed. The golden light illuminates a blue-haired head snoring away, pillowed on his arms. Thancred sighs at Pike. He can imagine his thought process—Pike so often wakes just as dawn breaks, so it stands to reason that he would wake before Thancred and be able to sneak back out before he was noticed.

Thancred wonders if he knows how exhausted he’s looked the last few days, since they returned from Rak’tika. Pike’s eye bags have eye bags. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with Pike, but he’s just glad he’s getting some decent sleep.

Thancred strokes one of Pike’s ears absentmindedly, and Pike leans into it in his sleep. Thancred has a sudden memory of laying in bed in Mor Dhona with Pike, stroking his ears until he’d turned into a purring puddle in his lap. It makes him smile almost as much as it makes him ache.

Twelve, he misses Pike. Even beyond the physical, the romantic—he misses the time spent together. Pike was one of his closest friends well before he was his bed partner, and he hates how things have soured between them.

Pike is trying, he knows. But every time Thancred goes to respond to a friendly joke or comment, all he can think is “I love you” and he starts spiralling into broody silence. He does that a lot these days. 

Thancred’s hand pauses, and Pike shifts, blinking a bleary eye open. “Mngh.”

“Good morning,” Thancred says, quickly pulling his hand away. “You know, you didn’t have to stay here all night just to make sure I didn’t run away. Some of us understand the sanctity of doctor’s orders.”

Pike stretches, exposing just a hint of his midriff. Thancred swallows heavily. “‘s not why I did it,” Pike mumbles, oblivious. “Was worried about you. I don’t know how you’re affected by being a corporeal ghost.”

_ I love you _ , Thancred thinks, touched. “As you can see, I am perfectly hale and hearty. I’m more worried about your neck. That can’t have been a comfortable place to sleep.”

“I wasn’t planning on sleeping here,” Pike says with a sigh, sounding more awake. He still looks completely exhausted, however. “I just wanted to make sure you were still breathing. Must’ve been more tired than I realized. I’ll get out of your hair.”

It’s a flimsy excuse, but Thancred acquiesces to it. “I’ve some time before Chessamile arrives to free me, if you’d like to stay and keep me company.”

Pike gives him a bright smile, and Thancred aches.

* * *

Ryne is a beautiful name. Pike loves it.

He loves her, too. She’s shining with resolve, now, carrying her final denial to Ran’jit like a shining badge of honor. The smile she gives is genuine and stunning. Yes, “Blessing” feels like an appropriate name.

Pike’s heart clenches every time he looks at Thancred. Despite knowing it was the only way, he feels bad for abandoning him. Pike is an expert in injuries, and he knows how close Thancred came to dying. There’s a shakiness to his hand when he pats Ryne on the head, and Pike notices that he takes each step carefully.

“I need to rest,” Pike announces. “Echo still takes it out of me, after all this time. The Lightwarden can wait a day.”

The others agree readily, and Pike pretends not to notice the flash of relief that crosses Thancred’s face. The miners of Twine are more than happy to put them up for the night, and Pike collapses into the bed he’s offered to process.

It was hard, seeing Minfilia again. Harder knowing that he wouldn’t be happy if he saw her again. She was a dear friend, and he’s already mourned her twice, once after the Antitower and later, when he’d come to the First. He can’t even imagine how Thancred feels.

Despite being the one who pushed for a rest, Pike can’t sleep. He heads out of the bunkhouse instead, and rests on the roof with some of his arrow making materials.

He hasn’t had much chance to use his bow, recently. Fighting alone favored his sword and shield, and being at the forefront of battle made him feel more secure even with comrades at his back. So he doesn’t need to make more arrows, but his sword is in mint condition right now, and he needs something to do with his hands.

Pike carves smooth channels into the shafts with his knife mindlessly, meditating on the repetition of it. It helps to clear his mind somewhat, and he floats, wandering through song ideas and bits of poetry with no real composition. 

Ten arrows in, a clatter on the roof has his concentration slipping and driving his knife into his finger. He frowns at the hint of pain, then looks up to see who’s joining him. 

“You should be resting,” Pike calls to Thancred.

“I could say the same of you,” Thancred replies, sitting down next to him. “I suppose you couldn’t sleep, either.”

“No,” Pike confirms. “Too many thoughts.”

“Mm,” Thancred hums. “I am much the same. And thus, despite my injuries, I find myself energized.”

“Fatherhood does that,” Pike jokes, nudging him. “How’s Ryne?”

“Asleep, thankfully.” Thancred smiles fondly. “I think meeting with Minfilia took much out of her.”

“She’s a wonderful kid. You’d better do right by her, or I’m taking her for my own.”

“I plan on it,” Thancred says seriously, despite Pike’s joking tone. “I hope you’ll be around for her, though. Especially when I return to the Source.”

Pike nods. “If I’m still around, I will.”

“What do you mean?” Thancred asks, worry lacing through his tone.

Pike curses internally, and keeps his eyes trained on his current arrow as he says, “If I’m able to come back to the First after all this. I don’t know what the Exarch has planned, after all.”

“I see. I am no expert on the shards, but I presume if you’re able to travel freely back and forth, that won’t change.” Thancred taps his chin thoughtfully. “I’ll need to make other arrangements for her, at any rate. You can’t watch over her all the time, not with your other duties—Pike.”

“Hm?” Pike hums, not looking up.

“You’re bleeding.”

Pike looks down. “Oh, yeah. Stuck myself with my knife when you came up. You startled me, for once.”

Thancred reaches into his side pocket. “One moment, I think I have some bandages on me.”

“It’s really fine, Thancred.” Pike shakes his head. “It’ll be healed by tomorrow. Blessing, you know?”

Thancred pulls out a small roll of bandages and takes Pike’s hand. “I would rather  _ not _ see you lose a finger to infection.” He wraps the injured finger gently, head bowed over his task, and a bit of hair falls into his face. “There.”

Pike smiles fondly, and brushes some of the hair out of Thancred’s face. “You’re such a dad, I swear. I’m not going to get an infection from—”

He’s cut off by Thancred surging forward and kissing him. And for a moment, everything is perfect, and right in the world. The knife in Pike’s hand clatters to the roof, as he knots his hand into Thancred’s hair. It feels like coming home.

And then Thancred yanks back. “I-I’m sorry,” he says breathlessly. “I was just caught up in the moment. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

Pike feels the hopeful bird that took flight at the kiss die in an instant. “Don’t worry,” he says, letting go of Thancred and scooting back. “It’s fine. Really.” He scrambles for the dropped materials and knife. “I’m just going to go. Suddenly really tired.”

“Pike, wait—” Thancred holds out a hand to stop him, but Pike shakes his head and looks away from him as he stands.

“It’s fine!” he says with too much enthusiasm, and shoves the materials into his bag. “I get it, Thancred.” Then he grins shakily, and slides off the roof, landing with a soft thud.

“Pike—”

Pike closes the door to the bunkhouse behind him softly, and drops his bag. Then he sinks to the floor with a quiet, wet laugh, and wishes for the Light to take him just a little faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone call me out in the comments for not having best character Valliant in this chapter. And for nothing else :-)
> 
> Probably won't be another chapter for a while? I'll be crying and losing my mind over 5.3 for at least two days, and I still have Writer's Month to work on.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation, a confession, a vigil.

Pike gives himself one day to mope after killing Amh Areng’s Lightwarden. Just one day of him staying in his room in the Pendants, eating an entire basket of baked goods and huddling in a pile on the bed. 

He needs the rest, anyway; he didn’t sleep after the incident with Thancred, and while he’s used to running on very little to no sleep, it’s gotten harder recently. That may be due to the Light currently ravaging his system, a thought which sends Pike spiralling to a whole new depth of fear and depression and leaving him staring at the ceiling in a desperate attempt to sleep.

Valliant comes to check on him during this period, and the worry is palpable on her face as she talks to him. He tries to fake a smile, to brighten under her attention, but it feels hollow and empty and every attempt seems to make the lines on her face deepen.

“You can talk to me at any time, you know?” she says, cupping his cheek.

And Pike nods, but he can’t. Gods above, does he want to, but he can’t. Because even if he just tried to talk about the Thancred thing, he’s worried the second he opens his mouth that everything will come spilling out and he can’t risk it. Pike needs to be able to do his job as the Warrior of Light, and he can’t do that if the Scions are worrying over him at every given moment.

Valliant leaves him after an hour, when it’s clear he has no intention of talking about it, and eventually Pike drifts off to a fitful sleep.

His dreams are muddled and confusing, snippets of things that leave him gasping for breath as he wakes, heart pounding with fear. There’s a thin film of sweat coating his entire body, and Pike wrinkles his nose. He stands and heads to the attached bathroom to bathe. The hot water helps to relax his frayed nerves, and he dresses and heads out into the night air.

Pike wanders to the lookout platform, and sits, dangling his feet over the edge. He looks up at the sky. The stars are different here, but no less beautiful. He’s always found the night calming—maybe some leftover remnant of the evolution of his people. He wonders, very briefly, if he can see home from here.

There’s a sound of footsteps behind him, and Pike glances back, watching the Exarch approach. 

“I had thought I may find you out here,” the Exarch says. “”Tis good to see you out of your room.”

“Did you need something?” Pike asks, turning back to look at the stars.

“I merely wished to check on you. Valliant mentioned that you seemed...troubled.”

Pike shrugs one shoulder. “Forgive me if I don’t want to talk about my troubles with a stranger.”

The Exarch settles next to him, setting his staff to the side. “It seems to me that you don’t wish to speak on it with your friends, either.” He smiles softly. “And I hardly think us strangers at this point.”

“I’m getting the distinct feeling that you won’t leave until I tell you.”

“A friend once told me that I could out stubborn a brooding chocobo,” the Exarch says, amusement clear in his voice. “I shall let that speak for itself.”

Pike sighs. “Fine.” He leans forward, not looking at the Exarch as he begins to speak. “You know what’s been going on with the Light, correct?”

“I do.”

“It terrifies me,” Pike confesses, his voice wavering suddenly. “I’ve tried to pretend it isn’t happening—I know you have a plan or something, and I just have to trust in that, but it’s hard. I feel like I’m...like I’m going to die. I’ve never been scared of that before.”

The Exarch lays a hand on his shoulder, and Pike looks at him. “You will not die,” he says, and the sincerity in his voice nearly wipes away every fear from Pike. “I swear to you.”

Pike sighs, and he inclines his head. “Thank you. It means a lot.”

“This is not the totality of your troubles, however.”

“...No, no it isn't.” Pike sighs. “I don’t think you want to hear about my disaster of a romantic life, though.” He gives a grin to the Exarch.

“I wish to help you,” the Exarch says. “No matter your trouble, I wish to share it. Though...I can’t help but admit that my own romantic experience is lacking.”

Pike snorts suddenly. “Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. It’s just...somehow, I can’t imagine you having any partners.”

Pike can’t totally see the Exarch’s face, but he thinks the hint of it he can see has gone red with a blush. “Not for some time, no. But in my youth...there was a man whom I loved. He was strong and beautiful, and kind. He had such wonderful tales of...heroics, and adventure. And he cared, so deeply, for everyone he met. He was a truly wonderful person.”

Pike blinks at the clear love and emotion in the Exarch’s voice. “What...what happened to him?”

The Exarch sighs, folding his hands on his lap. “I was going to tell him my feelings for him but...he was being courted by another, and I didn’t wish to hurt our friendship. He eventually married that man, and from what I hear, was completely happy with him.”

“You should have told him,” Pike says. “I think he may have liked to know, at least, that you cared for him. If it were me, I would have liked to have the option. For all you know, he may have had his own feelings that—” he cuts himself off. “Oh. I think I’ve figured out my own issues.”

The Exarch laughs a little, and he stands. “Well, I am glad my tale could help you. Good luck to you.”

“Exarch?” Pike says, grabbing the hem of his robe.

“Yes?”

“I hope that...one day, even if it isn’t the man you loved, that you find someone who can make you happy.” Pike smiles at him. “I know I haven’t been the nicest to you, but...I do consider you a friend. You deserve to be happy.”

The Exarch’s voice is strangely choked as he replies, “Thank you, Pike. I appreciate it.”

Pike raises his hand to Thancred’s door in the house in Kholusia, then drops it.

Unfortunately, his day of moping left little time for him to talk to Thancred before they left for Kholusia, and he’s been getting the distinct feeling that Thancred is avoiding him, anyway. Pike’s been trying to talk to him alone for nearly a week now, but Thancred has either been with Ryne or assisting with the construction of the Talos.

But now, Thancred is resting, having strained a muscle pretty severely while lifting something. If they were speaking regularly, Pike would be teasing him for being an old man. Instead, he’s hovering at Thancred’s door, too scared to even knock.

“Some Warrior of Light,” he mutters to himself, then knocks loudly on the door. He can barely hear the sound over the hammering of his heart in his ears.

“Come in,” Thancred’s voice says, muffled, and Pike enters.

Thancred sits on the bed, a pack of ice pressed to his side. He looks up as Pike enters, and his face visibly goes blank. Pike bites his lip and debates running now. But he doesn’t, and instead bolts the door behind him.

He pulls up a chair to Thancred’s side, and asks awkwardly, “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Thancred replies. “Y’shtola says I will be fine by tomorrow, so long as I rest well.”

“Good.”

Thancred sighs. “Did you need something, Pike?”

Pike bites his lip again, and he looks away from Thancred. “I...wanted to talk to you.”

“I see.”

Pike clenches the fabric of his pants over his knees, and he keeps his head low as he . “Please just...listen to the end, okay?” Thancred nods, and Pike inhales, settling his nerves. “I know I’ve hurt you, deeply. I should have said right when I started realizing my feelings for you, that I needed time, or I needed to end things. But I didn’t, because...because you were one of the reasons I could even manage to function after Haurchefant died. And it was selfish of me to use you like that.”

“Pike—”

“And when you and I argued, that last time, I was hurting, and I lashed out. Because I was scared of the things you wanted from me, and I was scared of...I was scared of feeling like that again. Of loving somebody so much that I would fall apart when I lost them again. And I lost you anyway!” Pike laughs wetly. “Of course I did. I pushed you away and then you were taken. And I realized then, that I can’t just pretend not to care, because I was going to love you no matter what, even if it terrifies me.”

“Pike,” Thancred starts, but Pike shakes his head.

“I’m not finished.” Pike takes a deep breath in again, and he looks up to face Thancred. “When I said I would always compare you to Haurchefant, that wasn’t true. You’re different people, and I love you in different ways. I’m a different person, after him, and after everything I’ve been through. Twelve, I barely think of him when you’re around. I’ll always love him, but I love you too, Thancred. And even if you’ve moved on, if I hurt you so badly that you can’t imagine ever loving me again, Thancred, that’s okay. I just needed you to know—”

Thancred surges forward, kissing Pike. Pike is stunned for all of a second, before he responds in kind, his hand knotting into Thancred’s hair. He feels some distant part of him settle, and the tears that have been threatening to spill over finally break.

Thancred pulls back, and he brushes the tears away with his thumb. “Pike,” he says, smiling. “You are  _ impossible _ to get over.”

Pike shakes his head. “I just thought, since you didn’t want to be around me, and you said ‘I don’t want you to get the wrong idea—’”

“Seven hells,” Thancred says. “I meant that I didn’t want you to think I wanted to jump back into our previous arrangement.”

“Oh.”

“Your mind is far too pessimistic, darling,” Thancred laughs. “You are warm, and kind, and you care so much for everyone around you. How could I not love you?”

“Five years is a long time,” Pike says softly.

“Every thought I could spare went to you,” Thancred says. “Wondering how you were. Thinking how much you would love Lakeland, and Ryne, and those pastries in the Crystarium. Trying to keep the memory of your laugh, your smile, and your eyes as fresh in my mind as possible.” He lays a hand on Pike’s chest, where the scar from Elidibus lies. “If five years was a long time, you were with me throughout to shorten it.”

Pike kisses him again, softly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Thancred leans forward to kiss him again, and then hisses. “And I will show you just how much, when I’m not laid in bed recovering.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

Of course, Thancred is the one that carries Pike off Mt. Gulg.

Valliant, for all that she’s always disapproved of their relationship, doesn’t even blink when Thancred kneels and gently picks Pike’s prone form off the ground. She makes one comment, halfway down the mountain, about taking him if Thancred gets tired, but Thancred only stares resolutely forward, clutching Pike closer to himself, and she doesn’t try to speak to him again.

He only lays Pike down on the airship back to the Crystarium, so Ryne can look over him. Thancred hovers the entire time, worried in equal parts over the both of them. Pike lays still, like the dead, only the faint rise and fall of his chest to lend credence to the idea that he still lives. The markings on his face have begun to bleed color.

Ryne doesn’t look at Thancred as she speaks. “I’ve stabilized him for now. I don’t know how long it will last. I wish I could do more.”

Thancred places his hand gently on her head. “You’ve done the best you can. Now we just need to find a way to fix him.”

Ryne nods, and Thancred sees the hint of tears shining on her cheeks.

They all keep vigil at Pike’s bedside that first day. Urianger tells them about the Exarch’s plan, and there’s not a hint of anything held back this time. There’s a look of shame on Urianger’s face as he stares down at Pike. Thancred wants to be angry with him, but he doesn’t have the energy, and the man is already beating himself up enough for all of them.

The tale Urianger tells is a grim reminder of the fate that awaits Pike when (if) he wakes, and it's the impetus for their dreary observance to begin to dissipate.

Urianger is the first to go, to continue his own research he’d begun when the Exarch told him of his plans, and Y’shtola goes with him. Then the twins peel off, discussing what they might find in the Crystarium’s library. Finally Ryne, with a patient look to Thancred, disappears to discuss what she can with Chessamile, leaving him and Valliant to watch over Pike.

Finally, even Thancred can’t take it any longer. He stands, joints popping from disuse, and leans over Pike to place a kiss against the crown of his head. He doesn’t stir, and Thancred notes, with dread pooling in his heart, that Pike’s markings have gotten even paler, nearly glowing in the faint light.

Thancred places a hand on Valliant’s shoulder. “I could use your assistance, in Eulmore’s library,” he says.

She shakes her head mutely, and there’s a faint sheen in her eyes. “I can’t leave him, Thancred.”

“He won’t get any better any sooner with you fretting at his bedside,” Thancred says. “Ryne will stay close, with Chessamile, and she knows how to contact me when he wakes.”

“I don’t—” Valliant sighs, the metal of her armor creaking as her hand tightens into a fist. “I don’t know what to do, Thancred.”

“None of us do,” Thancred says gently. “Valliant, if I knew what to do, Pike wouldn’t be lying here right now. But the only thing we  _ can _ do is look for an answer.”

Valliant shakes her head again. “How are you okay right now? I feel like falling apart and never getting back up again.”

“I will never say that my reaction to grief has been a good one,” Thancred answers, after a moment. “One look at how Ryne was, before Amh Areng, could tell you that. But I keep moving forward, because that is what he would want from us. If it were either of us in that bed, he wouldn’t rest until he knew he had exhausted every possibility.”

Valliant snorts. “When you were taken here, he moped at your bedside for  _ days _ .”

“Well, then you were there to tell him to get up and keep moving,” Thancred says, though his heart does a funny little flip at that knowledge. “And I am here for you, no matter how much you wish it were anyone else. We will save him, Valliant. Or he’ll pull something out to save himself, just like he always does. I promise you. Pike will live through this.”

Valliant nods, and she stands. She considers Thancred for a moment, before pulling him into a hug. Thancred squeaks with surprise as she does. “Thank you, Thancred,” she says, and there’s a choked sound in her voice that tells him she’s finally crying. “Thank you for believing in him.”

“Of course,” Thancred says, patting her on the back awkwardly. “What else is there for us to do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thancred fuckers: *slaps the concept of Thancred carrying their WoL off Mt Gulg* this baby can fit _so much >/i> angst._
> 
> _I've been wanting to do that scene with Valliant and Thancred for _forever_ , probably after I came up with the scar scene in chapter 2. It's gone back and forth in planning, a lot. First Valliant was the one telling Thancred to get off his ass and get to saving his bf, then I flipped it, repeat until I finally settled on this. And the scene with Pike and the Exarch! I'm a sucker for missed chances, and the ending of 5.3 really just hit home how I wanted this to play out. I hope you all liked it <3_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Warrior of Light sets out for one final battle. Around him, the people he loves start to grieve.

Pike realizes it as soon as he wakes.

The Light hums, along every nerve and every bone in his body. He reaches for it, unthinking, like his own aether, and loses himself for an hour or so as he fights for control of his body again. There’s sweat pouring down his brow, and he resolves not to try that again, under any circumstances.

Pike’s mind swims, trying to draft up battle plans around this new impediment. He hates it sometimes, how well he functions in a crisis, another way the Frumentarii will be with him forever, but it’s useful right now. The small, tired part of him that wants to just give up and break down gets set on a shelf, labelled  _ to be dealt with later _ (he never does) and the Warrior of Light is able to rise from his sickbed and make his way to the window.

The taste of chalk in his mouth is probably from the Light, but he’s not any less sick at seeing what he’s caused. Twelve, it’s hard to look at. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the stars until they were shining above him in the Crystarium, and now that they’re gone he misses them like a limb.

The night sky is  _ his, _ in a way nothing else in the world is. Nights were when the Cat’s Eye prowled, nights were when he laughed and played music with his little sister, nights are when Haurchefant, and later Thancred, would hold him and drive the nightmares away. 

Twelve. Thancred.

He’s doing to Thancred what Haurchefant did to Pike.

Pike could never hate Haurchefant—Haurchefant was always too good, the light of his life, his own heart. But there were times after he died that he wanted to, grief giving way to anger. Was Pike not enough to stay for? 

Pike flexes his hands. That way leads to despair, he thinks, and he’s not sure when his fragile control over the Light will snap. Being emotionally compromised certainly won’t help him hold onto it. So the self-hatred, the sadness, the grief, all gets shoved on the shelf.

He feels Ardbert appear, and cracks his neck. It’s time for the Warrior of Light to get to work. One final battle.

* * *

Before they leave for the Tempest, Pike drags Thancred into a private corner of the Crystarium, and wraps him in a hug.

Thancred reflexively wraps his arms around Pike, and lets himself fall apart. He muffles sobs into Pike’s shoulder, clinging to his partner like if he just holds on hard enough, Pike will stay. Pike clings back just as hard, and they let a moment pass with no words between them.

Then Pike pulls back, and he cups Thancred’s cheek, thumbing away a tear. “I’m sorry, love.”

“It’s not your fault,” Thancred replies, cupping his hand with his own. “You didn’t choose this.”

“No, I didn’t. I wouldn’t do that to you, if I could help it.” There’s a bitter note in his voice. “Selfishly, I’m glad you stopped me before I could leave on my own. I don’t know if I could do this without you by my side. Even if I don’t want to make you watch me die.”

Thancred wraps his arms back around Pike. “Every extra moment with you is a treasure, Pike. I don’t care how much it’ll hurt. I’ll be with you, to the very end.”

“It’s not fair,” Pike whispers against Thancred’s chest. “I just got you back, and I’m going to have to leave you again.”

“I know, darling. I know.”

“It’s not just you,” he says, strangely choked. “It’s Valliant. And the twins. Urianger and Y’shtola. Ryne. All my friends on the Source. Even Raha, as mad as I am at him right now. I’m not going to be around long enough to forgive him, and I’m too angry to do that before I die.” He laughs, wetly. “I can’t even take a second to break down about it.”

Thancred thinks on that for a time. “We’ve got time, if you want.”

“No, if I do...I won’t make it,” Pike says. “I think part of what’s keeping me from turning is not losing what little control over myself that I have. You know, I’m a little glad for all the shit the Frumentarii did to me. At least it made it easy to separate all my emotions about dying so I can go kick Emet-Selch’s ass.” Pike gives another wet laugh. “Technically, he gave me all the skills I need to beat him. Isn’t that poetic? Write a beautiful ballad about it for me, will you?”

“I’ll write you a thousand ballads,” Thancred declares. “So no one will ever forget you. I’ll pay a thousand bards to sing them in a thousand taverns so everyone knows exactly what we’ve lost. How less the world would be without you in it.”

“And when my soul returns, I will know how loved I was,” Pike says, a small, sad smile growing on his face. “If it’s not already been etched on.”

“If you forget, I’ll be there to remind you, darling. Any life.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

It’s not the last kiss they’ll share, but it feels like it.

* * *

Valliant is trying to figure out how to say goodbye to Pike when he comes up to her and sits down.

“I was ten when my parents died,” he says. Which is a wild way to open a conversation, and she can only blink at him.

He gives her a half-smile, and the bags under his eyes stand out starkly against the pale white of his markings. The blue of his hair has begun to bleed in places, too, leaving pale streaks through the dark ink of his hair. She’d noticed that starting when she braided his hair while he was still unconscious. It still hurts to look at.

Pike, understanding that she’s not going to reply, continues. “My father died first. He was an opera singer, a really good one—you can tell who I got my singing voice from—but he didn’t make a lot of money, because Garlemald is really unfriendly to those who aren’t Garlean. Savages, they called us, even though my whole family had lived in the Capital for ages, and we were all citizens already. So we lived on a seedier side of town, and when he was walking home from the theater one day, he got stabbed. Bled out less than a quarter malm from home. I don’t know if they ever found the person who did it.”

He pauses, taking a deep breath. “In the next three months, I watched my mother waste away. I begged her to eat, to help me take care of my sister—she was barely two when Pappa died—to just do anything other than sit by the window and stare out at nothing. Nothing worked. She just kept getting thinner and thinner. When she died, it was almost a relief, like at least I wouldn’t have to stretch what savings we had to keep three of us alive. I don’t think I ever really forgave her for that, for abandoning us. Maybe she couldn’t control it, but I deserved better, you know? I was ten. And then I had to go out and figure out how to get a job at  _ ten. _ The amount of food I had to steal from waste bins and stalls just to feed myself, because I couldn’t stretch what I’d made to feed two—anyway.

“By the time I was in Eorzea, I’d been an adult for fourteen years, basically. I wasn’t used to people taking care of me. It’s actually how I ended up doing all those things at the beginning of my career; I couldn’t wait for someone else to help people because I’d lived so long expecting they wouldn’t. When we got captured before fighting Ifrit, I had about fifteen different plans to get us all out of there because I was sure Thancred was coming back for us, that we’d already been written off.”

Pike purses his lips. “And when Ifrit shot that fireball at me, I kind of figured that was it. I’d already had a second chance. You know what I was like back then, I was practically begging death to take me any chance he got, so I just...stood there. And then…”

“And then I jumped in front of you and took the worst of it on my shield,” Valliant says, finally finding her voice. She’s quiet, but clear. “And then once Ifrit was dead, I yelled at you for not running away sooner, because you still got burned.”

Pike snorts. “I deserved it, for sure. Do you remember the face I was making? All bug eyes and gaping mouth?”

“Yeah. Looked hilarious. I thought you’d hit your head the whole time after, you were so out of it.”

Pike exhales. “It was the first time in a long time that someone had genuinely cared whether or not I was hurt. That someone would think of someone other than themself and jump in the way of a fireball for me. It’s why I came to you and asked you to braid my hair, because I felt like I could trust leaving myself vulnerable in your care. Like I could...ask you to take care of me, and you would. And you have.” He reaches out to take her hand. “Whatever mother I had before I was ten, I can’t remember her. All I remember when I think of her is that woman wasting away before the window. But sometimes I’m glad, because then I can say that you are the  _ best _ mom I’ve had. And I hope that when I go, you’ll remember me fondly as your son.”

Valliant lets the tears fall then, and she pulls Pike into a tight embrace. “I don’t want to. I want to know my son for at  _ least _ another hundred years.”

“I don’t want to, either,” Pike says, laughly wetly. “Isn’t it funny? Just when I finally have things I want to live for, I don’t get the choice.”

“I think it’s really fucking tragic,” Valliant replies. “You shine so brightly, kid. The world’s gonna be so much darker without you in it.”

“Buy a lamp, then.”

“Asshole.”

Pike grins at her, and she grins back, even as the tears continue to fall. “Can I ask a favor, Vall?” 

“Anything,” she swears, and she means it.

He looks over to where Thancred is, valiantly pretending he isn’t worriedly checking on Pike every three seconds while attempting to make conversation with Urianger. “Can you look out for him? Don’t let him get to where I was, after Haurchefant. I know you two have your differences, but I love him, and I need you to do that for me when I’m gone.”

“Of  _ course _ you want me to look over your shitty boyfriend,” she grumbles, but it’s good natured. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll make sure he doesn’t throw himself at a dragon or something.”

“Thanks. You’re not allowed to do that either, you know?”

“I thought  _ I  _ was the parental one in this relationship.”

Pike laughs, bright and carefree, and Valliant closes her eyes, trying to memorize the sound.

* * *

The first thing G’raha realizes is pain. Pain, consuming the totality of his consciousness, radiating from the center of his body. Thought doesn’t form until he takes a shuddering, gasping breath, and the pain recedes just enough to make words become more than formless collections of letters.

The first thing he thinks is:  _ I did it, right? That’s what this pain is? _

The second thing he thinks, after he places his good hand to his abdomen and it comes away red, is:  _ No. I could have not failed more than in that moment. _

The thought hurts more than the bullet wound could. 

G’raha looks around the room he’s in, painted with dark blues and greens. It reminds him of the Studium’s ichthyology department, the tanks filled with fish from a thousand places, the only light the hazy filter of magitek bulbs through the water. It was calming, and one of his favorite places to escape to when the racing thoughts just wouldn’t settle.

He looks out the window, and sees water above him, the Light filtering through it hazy. Like the bulbs of the fish tanks. 

It feels strangely fitting. 

There’s a noise from the other side of the room, and he sees his captor, Emet-Selch, cursing furiously at a screen. It looks quite similar to the one in the Ocular, but clearer, and without that odd stutter that he’d never been able to fix. As he peers cautiously, G’raha sees Pike roll to duck the tentacle of a monster, his sword severing it as he springs to his feet. It takes his breath away, as always, and the sound of his gasp alerts Emet-Selch. 

The Ascian turns to him, appraising. “You awakened much faster than I expected. I suppose the Crystal Tower has its benefits?”

It does. If he reaches, he can feel the faint tendrils of energy from it, and they respond to him. They work to numb the wound, to begin to repair the damage. His crystal hand creaks, and G’raha grimaces with the effort not to flex it. It’s never comfortable, the strain on the rest of his body, but he weathers it.

“It was designed to be the seat of an immortal,” G’raha quips. He thinks about attempting to stand, and decides better of it. He does arrange his tired slump into more of a postured seating. “It would be foolish of me to ask my location, I presume.”

Emet-Selch smirks, just the faint quirking of his lips. He turns back to the screen, which shows Pike running along a sandy expanse. “I shall grant you this boon, at least. You are currently in Amaurot. My home, or was, once upon a time.”

G’raha turns back to the window, and from his new position, he can clearly see the towering buildings, stretching into the sky. They’re completely unlike any he’s seen in any world, though he can see the inspiration of Garlean architecture in the quiet composure of the buildings. The thought almost saddens him. “I see. The world of many thousands of years ago. It’s...much more watery than I expected.”

Emet-Selch snorts, and judging by the faint widening of his eyes, it was an unbidden response. “It is merely a recreation, from the few buildings that survived the Sundering. Nothing in comparison to its true splendor.”

“You created this?”

“Who else?”

G’raha recalculates his understanding of the Ascian’s power. “It’s beautiful.”

There’s something, in the shape of the buildings against the skyline, that feels so familiar, like home. Oddly so, since it neither reminds G’raha of Eorzea nor Sharlayan, but he can’t shake the feeling of deja vu that overwhelms him. He feels wetness on his cheeks, and as he raises his fingers to wipe it away, he realizes from the warmth that he’s crying. It’s a long moment before he can try to speak without the fear of sounding choked.

“Will you take advantage of my waking to question me on the function of the Tower, then? I can assure you, it must pale in comparison to your grand city.”

Emet-Selch rolls his eyes. “Of course it would. It’s creators were only mortal. I shall save the questioning for later, however. I must prepare for a guest.”

As he turns back to the screen, there’s another wash of deja vu. G’raha recognizes the source of this one, though. It’s the shape of Emet-Selch’s eyes, as they drink in the sight of Pike, now leaning comfortably on Thancred’s shoulder.

How strange that jealousy over the same man would bind the two of them together. It seems entirely too human for the imposing figure of the patriarch of Garlemald, one of two remaining unsundered beings left in the world. Watching a master archer miss a shot that a child easily made, almost, and the effect of it stuns G’raha, stealing his words again.

It’s like looking into rippling water, G’raha realizes, after a time; a reflection, warped and twisted beyond all recognition until you look hard enough. 

G’raha left a broken world to save it; Emet-Selch had his world taken from him. G’raha loves Pike for who he is, who he continues to be; Emet-Selch loves some long dead version of him, one that’s never coming back. G’raha works under obligations and hopes of a people who yet live, but are forever gone to him; Emet-Selch under those of a people dead but haunting him, shattered from the souls he knew. 

G’raha wonders how he can function under the weight of it. His own responsibilities, his death for the greater good; these things have weighed him down so much that it often takes everything he has (and some days, that’s not enough) to simply do what duties he has. And they pale in comparison to the yoke that rests on Emet-Selch’s shoulders. 

(He does not wonder about the cruelty. G’raha left a world where people had lost everything and had nothing to live for, save a fondly remembered past. He knows what that kind of despair can break you into, the kind of easy cruelty that can slip from your lips and fingers like breathing. He thinks he may have only been saved from it by having the goal of saving Pike. Of the hope of a better future. 

He thinks it may have broken him anyway. After all, hadn’t his chosen way forward been the cruelest it could be to Pike, someone he claims to love? Perhaps he and Emet-Selch are not so different, after all.)

The tears are back now, and G’raha lets them fall, looking at a projection of his dying friend.

* * *

It’s not until he’s standing on the beach, arms aching from exhaustion, that Pike realizes.

He starts laughing, breathless and shaky. Relief washes through him like a wave, sending a tingling wave of lightness to his extremities, and his knees buckle,sending him into the sand.

That’s what draws the attention of the rest of them, and Ryne’s by his side in an instant. “Pike?” she asks, the worry clear in her voice. “What is it? Is it the Light again?”

Pike draws in a breath, her distress cutting through his near-manic laughter. “I just—I’m going to  _ live,” _ he says.

“Oh,” Ryne says softly. “Yes, you are. Is that—good?”

“Ryne,” Pike says, smiling like his wedding day, “It’s better than good. It’s  _ amazing.” _

He laughs again, bright and carefree, and lets himself drink in the feeling of a bright sun warming his skin, with everyone he loves beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liiiiiiiive! 
> 
> Sorry this chapter took a thousand years. It was hard to write, especially because 90% of it is people grieving, and that shit hits me too hard. Plus, I watched the Untamed, and got sucked into _another_ hyperfixation, and by the time I remembered FFXIV existed, three months had passed! Wow. I think last Thursday finally rocked my brain enough for me to get back to this. I hope you like it! The Valliant and Pike scene is, as always, my favorite, but I think the others are some of my best work, if it's not bragging to say. 
> 
> Just the epilogue left! Expect it soon. And then one one-shot I have planned with Pike and Thancred, and a very special, Valliant-themed surprise :) Please look forward to it!


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Like constellations imploding in the night  
>  Everything is turning, everything is turning  
> And the shapes that you drew may change beneath a different light  
> And everything you thought you knew will fall apart, but you'll be all right_

“Thought I might find you up here,” Pike says.

G’raha makes a soft noise of affirmation, not turning. The platform that looks over Lakeland has slowly become  _ their  _ spot in his mind, and he wonders how Pike can still have this effect on him. He knows Pike isn’t even trying; it’s just the sheer magnetism of his presence.

Pike settles next to him, so close their arms brush. “Are you...is it a good time to talk?”

G’raha will never be ready for this conversation, but there’s no sense in putting it off. Rip the bandage off, he’s learned. “As good as any, I suppose.”

“I’m mad,” Pike says, words in a rush, like he’s been holding them back. “No, I’m furious. Absolutely incandescent with rage. I can’t believe, G’raha, that you would  _ do _ that to me. You knew what that would do to me, right?”

“I thought the emotional cost was worth your life.”

“It  _ isn’t. _ Do you think this is something I would want?” Pike shakes his head, the front braids and their charms catching the fading light of day with the movement. “It nearly broke me when it was Haurchefant, and it took  _ everything _ I had to recover.”

G’raha feels lost, suddenly. “But—he was your husband.”

“And you are my friend!” Pike whirls on him. “Do you think that, because I’m not in love with you, that I love you any less? Just because our feelings differ, G’raha, doesn’t mean I don’t  _ care.” _ His voice breaks on the last word, and he swipes furiously at his face. “It was cruel of you to do that to me. It’s going to take me a long time to forgive you for it.”

“I’m sorry,” G’raha replies. “You shouldn’t forgive me.”

“No, you don’t get to have a pity party over this,” Pike declares. “You get to be  _ better, _ got it? If I have to watch you die I’ll find a way to bring you back just to kill you myself. So promise me: never again. Got it?”

“I—” G’raha blinks, holding back the tears. “I promise.”

“Good,” Pike says. He nudges G’raha. “It’s good to have you back, Raha. I did miss you.”

And G’raha smiles, something settling in his chest. It’s not what he wanted but—it’s more than he could have ever expected. “And I you, Pike.”

* * *

G’raha wakes again, a familiar crick in his neck. Sleeping in Xande’s throne had not, in fact, been a great idea. Pike would appreciate the dramatics of it, though.

Speaking of, he looks up.

“Good morning,” Pike says, sweetly. “Since you didn’t really die, you get a free pass on murder from yours truly.”

G’raha remembers their last conversation, how Pike was near to tears over his crystal corpse. It feels strange, going from that to this cheerful, grinning Pike. He looks...lighter, than he has since he first came to the First. And how G’raha missed this easy smile—no, not missed, because Pike’s smiles have never been this carefree, not in G’raha’s memory.

“Good morning,” he says, own smile coming to his face unbidden. “You shall forgive me if I’m not disappointed—as much as an honor it would be to be killed by the Cat’s Eye, I find I enjoy life much, much more.”

Pike’s smile grows. “No arguments here.”

* * *

A week after Thancred returns to the Source, Pike decides it’s time, and removes the bracelet from its hiding place.

Maybe he’s moving too fast. Maybe it’s too much to ask for. But Pike has recently learned impatience, and every moment that bracelet isn’t on Thancred’s wrist, Pike’s heart hurts just a little more. 

He asks Thancred to meet him in his room that night. Truthfully, he doesn’t really  _ need _ to, because he and Thancred haven’t spent a night apart since he returned to the Source, but Pike wants to be clear that this is going to be a  _ thing, _ and he wants Thancred to be prepared for that. 

Then Pike goes on a patrol around Mor Dhona and kills a few dozen monsters to settle his nerves. It works, and he even manages not to get injured. He feels pretty proud of that, actually. Against simple monsters, he has a tendency to get lazy and let them smack him around a few times, before he puts them down. 

He cleans the blood and sap off himself before dressing in nice, soft clothes, and waits for Thancred to show up.

It doesn’t take long; and Pike’s thankful for it. Thancred knocks lightly on the door, like he hasn’t walked in without announcing himself a thousand times before, and Pike opens to find him with a bottle of wine.

“You spoil me,” Pike says, taking it. There is a momentary temptation to pull the cork out with his teeth and down the whole thing, that he ignores in favor of retrieving up a couple of wine glasses that he’s purloined from the bar.

“I would  _ never, _ ” Thancred replies. 

Pike snorts, and pours them each a glass before sitting down. They drink in companionable silence for a few moments, cuddled up on the edge of Pike’s bed. It’s probably a bad place to drink, but Pike likes the closeness and the chair at his desk nearly broke with the both of them sitting in it last time they tried. 

“So,” Thancred says, after a time. “I know you didn’t just invite me to your bedroom to get me to bring you wine.”

“If I wanted that, I’d just ask,” Pike agrees. “No, I have a gift for you.” He sets his glass down and heads over to where he’d placed the bracelet. “Close your eyes and hold out your hand.”

Thancred closes his eyes, a bemused look on his face. Pike bites his lip, and carefully ties the bracelet around Thancred’s wrist. 

“You can open them now,” he says.

Thancred opens his eyes, and immediately looks at the bracelet. After a moment, realization dawns, and his eyes go soft. “Oh, Pike. This is…”

“I want to be clear about something,” Pike says, cutting off whatever Thancred was about to say. “This isn’t a marriage proposal. I won’t ever marry again. Husband was a title reserved for Haurchefant, and I want to keep it that way. But that doesn’t mean that I care about you any less, and I wanted to reflect that. I want you to be sure...you get to keep me, as much as I can be kept. Okay? I’m yours, until you decide you don’t want me.”

“Never,” Thancred says, and he stands. “Pike, it’s not as if I’ve been dreaming of marriage since I was young. I was happy just having you love me. This is more than enough, darling. Whatever you want.”

“I want,” Pike says, tone light, “you to kiss me.”

“I can do that.”

And he does. And it’s perfection.

* * *

Time marches on.

The Scions settle back into the rhythm of life on the Source. Not one of them is perfectly happy—too many friends and family gained over the time they were there, people they’ll miss forever. But there’s a calm that settles over the whole of them, and even the war that licks at their borders can’t break through the ease of getting a small but earned break.

The party is a little bit everyone’s idea, but mostly Pike’s. It starts with him just wanting to cook for everyone—they all handle their own meals, for the most part, but Pike likes to cook for other people, when he can. It reminds him of his parent’s house and cooking for Elphina, small hands learning how to make edible food. He still has a few recipes he’d stolen from neighbors and fellow soldiers.

It turns into a party when Valliant goes out on her first solo mission since coming back to the Source and comes back bearing an entire crate of wine, and Y’shtola and Urianger are dragged out from their various projects to eat with them. G’raha is designated sous chef when Pike remembers that someone other than him in this group knows how to make food, and Thancred gets bullied into playing a few songs for them because Pike’s too busy. 

The last time Pike had this, he remembers, was Saturnalia the year before his father died. They used to go to a small gathering with the rest of their little neighborhood, and his parents would play and sing while he and the other children would receive gifts. He remembers, that year, being so proud of his baby sister who’d just learned how to talk in full sentences. He’d taught her how to say “thank you” whenever she was handed a present, small soft things suitable for a one year old, and felt warmth curl in his chest when the adults would coo over her intelligence.

There’d been no Saturnalia the next year, as his father was already dead and his mother was following right behind him.

“You alright?” Valliant asks him, having realized he wasn’t eating.

“Ah, yeah,” Pike answers. “Just...caught up in memories for a second.”

She nods and gives him a quick hug, and Pike lets himself get swept into the conversation around him.

Later, when all of them (save the twins, not that they haven’t tried—Pike’s lost count of the drinks that Valliant has plucked out of their hands and downed) are a bit in their cups, well-fed and joking and generally enjoying each other’s company, Pike allows himself to pull back from the party and quietly observe. The memory of that last Saturnalia and the hardship that followed are still close at hand, but the sting of it eases when he looks out at his friends, at peace and at home.

The Pike of a few years ago would be upset about how many people he’s let into his heart; the opportunities to be hurt or betrayed or scared are too numerous to be counted. But, as Pike looks at Valliant dancing a jig with the twins, mirth in her eyes; at Y’shtola and Urianger debating something about magic; at G’raha, beset upon by Krile and Tataru, looking utterly off-gait; at Thancred, swanning over, laying a kiss on Pike’s brow… 

“You look happy,” Thancred says, tucking an arm around his waist.

“I am,” Pike says. “You’re home.”

Yes, Pike thinks; all this is worth any hurt that could come. All the hurt he’s endured up until now. 

Because he has a family again, and they’re home with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S FINISHED!!! 
> 
> I can't believe I finally made it. I don't have the _best_ track record when it comes to finishing fics (side-eyes all my wips) so the fact that I ever finished Little Words was kind of amazing to me. To have finished this was...a lot. I'm so glad to have made it, though. 
> 
> This isn't the end, of course—I've got a few one-shots planned, and another project coming (from someone else's point of view 0w0) but this is the end of the main story for now. Obviously when the next expansion hits, I'll do another big story, but unless it's got a place for me to come up with a plot beyond the story, it'll probably be a bit more vignette focused.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me through this, especially everyone who's commented or left kudos. They are food for my writing. I'll see you next time!

**Author's Note:**

> Writing. I am capable of it.
> 
> I struggled a lot with writing this, just because I wanted to strike that balance of exploring character relationships without rewriting the entirety of Shadowbringers. But I really wanted to get at least the first chapter posted before 5.3 dropped because my brain and heart is going to be super broken by that (that trailer already has me SCREAMING) and I doubt I'll be able to focus on anything but crying in the fetal position for a few weeks. Please let me know if there's any mistakes in this!
> 
> The song is "Constellations" by the Oh Hellos. I love their music and I've been looking for an excuse to use one of their songs as a title. I figured Constellations fit in a lot of thematic ways, wouldn't you agree?


End file.
